As if I needed any more proof that I can do hard things – I returned to the belly of the beast this weekend. (I guess a refresher course is … Continue reading Belly of the beast.
Tag: narcissistic abuse
Odyssey.
Someday, when tales may be told of my life, I’d like the infernally overlong story to be named after me. An epic saga it is already, and I’m only thirty-three. … Continue reading Odyssey.
Breaking point. (TW: bodily injury, mention of miscarriage)
I don’t remember the exact day, or week, or month, which held my last conversation with my mother. It’s fuzzy. I know it was sometime in 2018, because it was … Continue reading Breaking point. (TW: bodily injury, mention of miscarriage)
The blood we choose.
“Blood is thicker than water.” We hear that all the time, don’t we? A colloquialism that implies we should put family above all else. (If you’ve been reading some of … Continue reading The blood we choose.
Burn Scars.
I’ve had enough fire for a lifetime. Engulfed, And then lifted above the flare, And then engulfed for more. Scald, rinse, repeat. No salve will heal these burn scars And … Continue reading Burn Scars.
Just somebody.
That feeling when your daughter comes across your old photo album full of family pictures, and wants to look through it to see you as a baby, and you start … Continue reading Just somebody.
Hippo birdie days.
Some days are just fucking hard. All days have their challenges, some small, some massive, and a variety in between. And I do believe that no challenge is insurmountable, even … Continue reading Hippo birdie days.
The threat of authenticity.
Have you ever asked a question – one that you thought was innocuous, just something you were curious about or didn’t understand – and been completely shut down for it? … Continue reading The threat of authenticity.
It’s a marathon, not a sprint.
Recently I spoke with a fellow survivor of narcissistic abuse (yes, survivor – I hate the word victim). She’s just starting out on her journey of recovery and reclaiming herself, … Continue reading It’s a marathon, not a sprint.
Biographical parasite.
Some days I feel light as a feather. Light with knowledge that there’s nothing ahead of me but to live my own life here. Some days I feel so heavy. … Continue reading Biographical parasite.
Journeys in the Dark 